


I Remember

by Vantasassy



Series: Memories [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sadstuck, ugh creys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vantasassy/pseuds/Vantasassy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red drips – you run, you hide. Mustard text and teal letters. You’re warned, you don’t listen. A sudden responsibility. You asked for it; you wanted to be the leader but now you realise how much of a weight that is and your shoulders feel heavy, oh so heavy. You enter, you shout, you rant. Angry walls of grey text that you’re pretty sure nobody pays attention to. He dies, you cry. He’s back, and you’re furious. He’s an idiot, stupid words dyed royal blue and you hate him, you hate him so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Remember

Red drips – you run, you hide. Mustard text and teal letters. You’re warned, you don’t listen. A sudden responsibility. You asked for it; you wanted to be the leader but now you realise how much of a weight that is and your shoulders feel heavy, oh so heavy. You enter, you shout, you rant. Angry walls of grey text that you’re pretty sure nobody pays attention to. He dies, you cry. He’s back, and you’re furious. He’s an idiot, stupid words dyed royal blue and you hate him, you hate him so much. They don’t listen. What password? Fuck this shit.

You break, they break. A javelin through the chest, she’s finally finished him off. They push him too far, he carries through on his threats – fuchsia and jade stain the floor. A shark is on the loose, mustard drips from his eyes and he’s down. He’s down and he won’t wake up and there’s honking and purple text and you don’t know what to do. _What do I do?_

You drag; drag, drag and you’re scared. You are actually scared. She’s tricked into a circus – the main attraction the execution of a spider. She hesitates, but then the sword is through and blue falls and you’re not sure who’s still alive and who’s dead.

And when you get your answer, you feel as though the world could implode right then and there. Twelve has become six and you didn’t do anything but run, run, run. You failed – you failed and that’s all you seem to do. Fail, fail, fail.

And then there’s only four because they stay behind and you already lost him once and then you thought you lost him again, and now he’s actually gone and this time you know he’s not coming back and you want to cry but you can’t. You can’t cry. So you flip out instead, because that’s all you know how to do. And the way he’s looking at you – face indifferent and eyes hidden behind shades – makes anger pool in your stomach and you decide you hate him. You hate him, you hate him.

Three years stretch and you find he’s just as infuriating as you thought. But you don’t care about that anymore because you saw it – you saw him wipe the tears from his face and you saw his eyes. Red and full of emotion and for once in your life you were speechless. And he pushes past you and his cape flutters and you realise that you are not the only one pretending to be ok.

And it felt nice. Nice knowing you are _not alone_.

You speak to him more, and you find yourself liking his company even though he’s a douche. It feels nice and normal and you need normal. But then he’s spending more time with her and you act like that’s ok but it’s not and you want him back. Your heart is beating and you ask him if you’ll still be bro’s? Still be friends? Because blue is coming soon you think he’ll leave. But he says he won’t, and you trust him.

And then he’s gone and you’re alone with her and there’s a girl dressed in red and then there’s a searing pain and you're bleeding from three deep holes in your chest and stomach and you fall. But then you’re up again and she leaves and there’s an explosion of green and you’re running again. But this time you’re running to, not from and it feels good; you feel brave.

You halt; he’s running past you after her and he’s a the huntsman chasing his little red who has been kidnapped by two wolves and he brushes you off and there’s a pain in your chest worse than when you were stabbed.

And suddenly everyone is together and he takes your hand and you're slipping away and suddenly your claws are grabbing at his shirt – tearing it, digging into flesh. You’re kissing and you’re crying and it’s wonderful and painful at the same time and he whispers that he loves you and you whisper it back because you’re pretty sure this isn’t pity or hate but it’s _something._ And it is something _amazing_.

But the voices echo in your head. Screams mingled with the laughter, and sobs intertwined with joyous conversations. You’re panting and your hair is wet, your face is wet and your eyes are screwed shut and your knuckles are white from gripping the porcelain of the sink _too tight_. You don’t want to open your eyes because you know there will be no yellow staring back, but instead pale blue and there will be blond hair and that lightly tanned skin and it’s _not you_.

You had thought the Game would combine your cultures but they didn’t and you decide you don’t like Earth. The fact that you are alone may make up the majority of your decision, however, and from your small apartment you can look out over the roads and the cars and there’s no greenery just machine and concrete and it’s disgusting.

The nightmares are frequent and so you try not to sleep – you try to stay awake as much as possible but it’s been almost six months since the you woke up here and you’re tired. Tired from the insomnia driving you slowly insane, tired from the memories that chain you to the past and tired of being alone, tired of struggling against restraints you know you can’t break. Yet you go through the motions – you wake up, force food down your own throat, go to your shitty job and then open your pesterchum account. It’s still up and running after all this time but the names aren’t lit up and you want to scream and cry and break every mirror you own and throw your laptop across the floor.

They have to be out there somewhere. They have to.

And so you begin to look, and by the one year mark you spend every second of free time scouring records in the library – reading through phonebook after phonebook because they can’t be gone they have to be somewhere. You won’t give up.

You’re wearing thin though and by the time a year and half has passed you’ve nearly burned through over half of the countries phonebooks, eyes sore as they strain against the dim light of the library as the librarian busies himself in preparation to lock down for the night. Your hope is dwindling and terrible feeling begins to wind itself around your lungs, pulling tight and sending you into a panic as you struggle to breathe.

_What if I’m the only one left?_

But you can’t be. You _can’t_.

_I won’t believe it – I won’t._

But a part of you is whispering ‘It’s true, it’s true’ and you feel as if your sanity is unravelling and knotting on the floor, Cheshire’s claws pulling at the thin thread and tearing, ripping and you can’t handle it.

By the two year mark you think you might be out of your mind as you lug the heavy records with you, having been kicked out of the library for making too much noise. You had been cursing and crying in frustration, close to tearing out your – _blonde, not black, blonde_ – hair and just breaking apart completely. Your brain was still in overdrive and your cheeks were streaked red from the tears, eyes puffed out and bloodshot. You reckon you look a right state, but you don’t care. You don’t care about anything anymore because their names aren’t there – _his names not there_ – and conspiracies are running riot through your mind, chiselling away at the small flame of hope still present and you’re positive you’ll break soon.

_Break, crumble – Your bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down._

You take a seat outside a small cafe in the town square, rolling up the sleeves of your oversized sweatshirt and resuming the work you were interrupted from doing. You have more time to spend scanning name after name since you lost your job almost two months ago, leaving you with little money and food. But that doesn’t matter because you would forget to eat even if you had food, too focused on find _them, it’s all about them, nothing else matters anymore_.

Your reading, reading, reading and there are footsteps echoing in the back of your mind and you are only mildly aware of the waitress as she approaches you, high-heels clacking over cobblestones. You’ll just ignore her and then she’ll go away – they always do. They always leave you alone and a part of you hates them for it and a part of thanks them.

 _You just want to be alone_.

“ _Sir, would you like to order anything?_ ”

Your heart stops. Your brain stops and you snap your head up because there’s no way you can ignore that voice and you freeze as blue meet jade and your mouth hangs open. Her hair is styled the same and although it’s now a deep brown and she has dark tanned skin instead of grey she looks so familiar and you feel a wave of happiness overtake you as you stare and stare and stare.

“ _Sir?_ ” She asks and you slowly rise, letting your book flop shut on the table. Her eyebrows are furrowed and you feel something wet leak down your cheeks. “ _Sir, are you ok?_ ”

“ _Kanaya..._ ” It’s only her name but her eyes widen and you think _yes, yes, yes._

“ _How do you know my name?_ ” She seems confused and scared and no this isn’t right. She’s meant to be happy and you are meant to hug and suddenly the hope in your heart is flickering and no, no, NO.

You begin to yell at her – scream – and you don’t even know what you’re saying but she’s backing away and now you’re begging her, begging her to remember you.

_It’s me, it’s Karkat – don’t forget. Don’t leave me._

But she’s backing away and you’re crying and breaking and reciting your whole tale for her, wishing desperately for her to remember, remember, remember. But no, no, she’s getting further away and you are slipping and by the time you stop talking you’re a sobbing panting mess. You hear murmurs around you and you begin to cast your gaze across the shocked faces of the crowd that has gathered.

You feel small, so small.

You drag your gaze past red, and then stop, breath catching as you snap you eyes back to that boys and you feel yourself go numb because _no, you can’t have a repeat of the situation that just occurred, you can’t_.

He’s walking towards you and you are tempted to run but you can’t and then he’s in front of you and he’s staring down at you. You can just see his eyes through his shades and they’re amazing and beautiful and his name slips from your lips before you have a chance to think. And it’s going to happen again, he’s going to reject you like Kanaya did and no.

“ _Dave..._ ”

You wait.

He takes another step forwards and you’re crying again but this time there’s no harsh recoil and instead he’s hugging you and you feel his warmth and his heart and you sob, clinging to him as you did that final day of the game. You feel a wetness on your hair and you can tell he’s crying too but you have no chance to react because then his lips are on your and it’s _wonderful, amazing, exhilarating._ You cling to him and you don’t want to ever let go.

When he pulls his lips away he just stares at you and you can see emotion swimming in his eyes, shades askew on his face from where your noses were pressed together, teeth clacking and fashes squished in an awkward yet perfect mess. He opens his mouth and you wait, wait, wait and when your name is whispered for only you to hear you can’t help but pull him back to you.

“ _Karkat._ ”

You’re both sobbing and snivelling and it’s disgusting but you _don’t care_. Your head is buried in the crook of his neck, cheek resting on his shoulder as you cry and his lips are moving in your hair, words spewing from his mouth in a broken, jumbled mess that you can hardly decipher but you realise he’s telling you about the last two years – he’s recounting his pain and you cry when he tells you about John. About Rose and Jade because it hurts as much hearing it as it would experiencing it and then he tells you how _lonely he was_ and you can’t help but bark out a laugh, because you know that feeling all too well.

And so you say the only thing you can think to say, breathed into the hot skin of his neck.

“ _I remember._ ”

And it seems to work because he holds you closer and nuzzles further into your hair before laughing. The sound is sweet and pained at the same time but it’s _beautiful_ and he sounds so relieved as he sobs his next words into your head, lips brushing the skin of your scalp.

“ _You remember_.”

**Author's Note:**

> The alternate POV to 'You Remember' - basically an overview of Karkat's two years after the Game


End file.
